


Girl Feeds Crows Who Bring Her Gifts

by perclexed



Category: Girl Feeds Crows Who Bring Her Gifts
Genre: Birds, Crows, Friendship, Gen, Human Bird Interaction, unlikely friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perclexed/pseuds/perclexed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small kindnesses can build a lasting friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl Feeds Crows Who Bring Her Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> I love corvids. Seriously. I think they're the bomb. This girl is living my dream. Learn more [here](http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-31604026).
> 
> Thanks as always to Medie for enabling. This is a small gift for Rachael, because I like the way she thinks. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

It started curiously. I was out one day, looking for my next juicy worm after a hard rain, when all of a sudden, one of the small Two Legged Non Flier peoples appeared to drop some food. I call them Groundlings. 

Now, I've been fully fledged long enough to know that one must be wary of these beings. Those who do not question their motives and trust without pause? Well, I could tell you tales. They do not end well. Every murder has their own set of stories, passed down from parent to chick. But it's a hard life, and when you have been hungry for days, an easy meal can be hard to resist.

I cocked my head as the female...I think it was female, it is so hard to tell when they insist on changing their version of feathers at every opportunity, rather than wait for a molt like the rest of civilized society...tumbled out of that odd conveyance that moves like the wind. I guess when you cannot fly, you must make do with inferior means of getting about. But...yes, yes I recognize that odd lump on the ground. If my excellent memory serves me correctly, it is not only edible but very delicious and filling.

There were others of my murder lurking about, and a prime opportunity like this would not be available for long. Gathering my courage, I dropped off my excellent perch and swooped down to land near enough to the prize, but far enough away that I could rapidly escape.

Keeping one eye cocked, I hopped closer, and closer...YES! It is mine! With a caw of triumph, I launched myself skyward, and was soon quite preoccupied by keeping my prize from the dastardly thieves that would steal my reward. I lost track of the small one in the resulting melee.

However, that perch was an excellent vantage point in a rich hunting ground. I returned there often. And I began to notice a pattern. The small one, whose face I came to recognize even as she changed her feathers daily, and grew nearly as rapidly as our own young do, seemed to shed edible things as though she actually was molting. After much observation, I began to understand that she bore me no ill will, and in fact appeared to be leaving food around on purpose.

This was astonishing! I gave it another few cycles of light and dark to test my hypothesis, but it truly appeared as though she was trying to…. My goodness, it's so unbelievable that I can hardly bring myself to credit it, but I believe that she was actually trying to befriend me.

Me and a few others who had also discovered this staggering opportunity huddled in a tree close to the nest of the small one. After a healthy discussion, which was loud even for a group of crows, we came to agree that yes, she was doing it on purpose and we should encourage the efforts of this young one to communicate with us.Now, we are not an ungrateful people. While we live in a fairly warm and comfortable area, it is very wet when the sky cries, which it does often. Sometimes I wonder what has upset the sky so much, but there's only so much one crow can do. Sometimes the sky cries so hard that the Lightbringer stays away for what feels like days, and if you do fly, it takes ages for your feathers to dry out. Sometimes you have to stay under cover, and when you do that, you can't go looking for food.

I proposed that we show our thanks to such a reliable, steady source of food with gifts. This idea was met with some outrage. We may not be as bad as our flighty cousins the magpies, but we do appreciate a lovely button or a bit of shiny with which to line our nests. But I was charmed at the youngling's sincerity and what appeared to be a genuine desire to befriend our people, and my passion won the day in the end.

We agreed. For every silver light in darkness cycle, one of us would offer up a gift from our own personal treasure boxes. If you wanted to give more often than that, you could, but it wasn't required. And we would continue for as long as the small one would offer us food. 

I felt better about taking the offerings after that. In fact, the very next day, I flew in as close as I dared, landed and dropped what I had seen other Groundlings wearing near their faces. They appeared to fit into small holes on the things they used to hear with? I didn't understand it, as some of them seemed to have them, and others didn't. Some had many, others only had one...there must be some sort of custom of which I hadn't grasped the nuances. But it was very pretty, to my eyes, and I watched as she slowly reached out with her strange, pale claws and picked it up.

Delight comes across in many different languages, and is a common denominator across many species. I had no doubt that she found my gift precious, and I couldn't stop myself from preening in satisfaction.

I didn't always visit every day, but I did check in every few light cycles. It was hard not to be pleased at our success. The small group of my people who had agreed to the plan grew fat and happy, feathers glossy and all our chicks made it through the next hatch. I noticed that the small one's sibling, from a different clutch, began helping her and that the offering of food became more formal. The young one's mother often turned a large eye on us that made strange clicking noises, but since it didn't seem harmful we learned to ignore it. She would sometimes place a strange, hard and thin cover over the eye, perhaps because it did not have a lid to protect it. I noticed it tumble from some place in her not!feathers when she was pointing the eye at an evil eagle that was circling above our heads one day. It didn't seem right to leave it on the ground, so I cleaned it in the small still water that they left out for us, and left it where they might find it the next time they came out to feed. She seemed very excited about that. I felt good.

It was an excellent partnership, and my people granted her some lovely gifts. There were many different colors and sizes of the small, round catches that her people used to keep their not!feathers on. A few of those hard, clear and shiny pebbles that her people roll along the ground. I heard her sibling call it “marbles” but I don't know what that means. There were even a few shiny bits of metal that were in a regular shape not really found in nature, but seemed to be important. 

I was very proud of the fact that one of my gifts appeared to be a favorite. It was of a material that looked much like what comes out of the delicious, hard shell things that sometimes came up along the soft part where the big water meets the land. I do not know what the shape is called, but I have seen it often, and it appeared to be a symbol of significance to her people. I hope she understood how glad I was for her friendship. I do think she understood. She keeps pointing it out to older ones of her kind who occasionally come by carrying very large eyes that peer into her treasure box in appreciation.

All good things come to an end eventually. I don't know how long this friendship will last, but I do know that I appreciate this small Groundling, and am glad that my people have found her worthy. Long may she feed us all.


End file.
